


Light Reading

by OmegaZeta5



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Hyrule Castle, Pre-Calamity (Legend of Zelda), Tumblr Prompt, not much else to say, thirsty-and-in-denial-Zelda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26483350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmegaZeta5/pseuds/OmegaZeta5
Summary: She's going and he can't stop her.She can't stop him from following though.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 100





	Light Reading

**Author's Note:**

> Response to the #thirsty-and-in-denial-Zelda prompt on Tumblr, courtesy of intangibly_yours. I wanted something light(to see if I could handle that) and I wanted it done fast, so hopefully it's worked out here! Please enjoy.

_Goddesses, it's hot in here._

Zelda stands in the black and waits for the spots to disappear and the grain to subside. The silence makes her breath a rumble and she tries to shake the sensation off as her chest rises and falls. She blinks a few times and the doorknob’s there and she twists it, rough at first but then she remembers where she is. The door opens with the faintest click and her hair’s a shimmering curtain past her shoulder in the torchlight as she peeks her head out her bedroom, the satin of her gown billowing out from the crack. 

The coast is clear. She scuffs her slippers on the stone floor as she shuts the door behind her and reaches up to grasp the blackened torch perched by it. It’s in her hand and her attention’s back on the hall in front of her and she lets out a small huff. Let’s go. She takes one step forward. 

“Your Highness.” 

Zelda almost trips and the castle almost goes down in flames. She steadies herself and already knows who it is before she turns around to confront them. 

“Well met.” She says, her tone decidedly curt and blunt. This special tone reserved just for him. 

The blonde of his hair glints in the torchlight same as the silver of his armor does. He doesn’t flinch when it roars past his face. “What are you doing?” 

“None of your business, I’m afraid.” 

Link stares. “It...is.” 

The blade on his back glows through its sheath and Zelda is smoldering. “Tell my father and I’ll do far worse for you.” 

A bluff. Mostly. 

“Okay.” 

The wood of the torch is tight in her fingers. She rests her weight on one foot and judges him with her gaze, chin up. Thinking. Considering. 

“I’m going to the library,” she admits aloud. 

He’s silent. She purses her lips. 

“To partake in a little light reading.” 

He scans her face. “Little late.” 

“So it is.” 

“...The king wants you well rested-” 

“So here I go.” 

He pauses. “Okay.” 

She looks him over again and nods, satisfied. Her slippers scuff the stone again and she’s walking in the opposite direction and she sighs at how her head clears up so quickly. The sigh dies and she hears someone else’s footsteps behind her. 

Zelda whips around and almost burns him. “No.” 

He blinks a little in the sudden light before settling on her face. “No.” 

Ugh. “That was not a request.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

The nerve! She chances a step closer and the flame wavers, “I gave you an order,” the tone controlled and dangerous. 

He gazes coolly at her. “And I’m following mine.” 

There’s a splitting ache in Zelda’s head and she considers the benefits of lighting him on fire. Just what she needs, this boy with the sword on his back and the blank stare breathing down her neck in the dead of night. She gets enough of it during the day. She shakes her head to herself and they stand there a while. Maybe she should just cut her losses. 

“Princess,” he says, "you should really just head back to bed." 

Zelda’s eyes glaze over and her decision is made. The world blurs past her and she’s striding down the hall again and her steps are light and precise. She hears the clank of shifting steel behind her and rolls her eyes. 

“Really?” she mutters aloud but there’s no response. Just the boots crashing against the stone and she sighs. It’ll be a miracle if they make it to the library without getting caught.

* * *

They make it. 

The flames are warm against her face and she holds the torch further away as she steps into the great hall. A few lights pocketing the columns and by the tables below are all that save the cavern from being lost to the shadows. Shelves lining the walls on the walkways and running row by row down the first floor with the tables centered between. Zelda breathes in that weathered scent of yellowed pages and polished marble and she feels herself sink into it. Link clambers in beside her and the sensation’s gone and she’s walking by the railing overlooking the rest of the library below. 

“So,” he says and the simple tone of his voice in here is enough to make her eye twitch, "what's the book?" 

“Right,” she sighs, “Go and fetch me the…” 

He’s silent as they walk and he doesn’t seem to notice the way her face freezes or her head dips behind the torch held between them. Fetch the what, Zelda? Zelda. Zelda, what’s the book? 

They slow to a stop and her mind picks up speed. Her fist’s in her mouth, gaze flicking to him then the floor then him again. There’s a shelf behind him. She turns and her arm’s stiff and raised before she finishes the motion. 

“That one.” 

He follows her finger. It’s the entire shelf. He stares hard for a little before turning back to her, inquisitive. 

“Gardening?” 

He doesn’t need to make it sound stupider. “Gardening,” she repeats and tries to look through him. 

He waits, presumably for her to clarify. She swallows. 

“A tome from the Gardening section." 

The light glints off his eyes and they’re dark. “Where’s that exactly?” 

Her finger’s already shifting up, “It’s right...right up there.” 

Right. 

The uppermost right corner of the shelf. Small, forgotten. Link looks to it then back to her and Zelda tenses as she waits for him to say what she knows he’s going to say.  _ Good one, princess. Now, where’s the  _ real _ book? _

“Anything specific?” 

__ Her tongue is dry and she blinks. Then he’s silent and looking again and a more familiar feeling narrows her gaze. 

“You’ll know if I need something specific.” 

He’s still looking at her and her mouth’s tightly shut as she glares back. But then he nods again and he moves away and Zelda frowns. 

“Where are you-?” Slips out of her and it’s unfortunately very genuine in its bewilderment. 

His eyes are on her again. “The ladder.” 

The confusion holds her for another moment before reality smacks her in the head. How else is he supposed to reach the stupid shelf? She bites her lip, eyes darting and he’s turning away like nothing happened. 

“...No. No ladder.” 

He stops again and now he frowns. 

“No ladder?” he says and his tone is careful and unassuming and she flares up again. 

“My apologies. I assumed you fit for the task.” 

He’s there a moment longer and she’s not rewarded with any sort of change in his face. He’s going to call her on this, isn’t he. Princess thinks he can get up there without the-

He jams a steel-covered boot into the bottommost shelf and like that the boy is climbing. Zelda stares dumbfounded as he makes his way up, a hand gripping here or a foot resting there. Plates of steel shifting and moving like gears and shafts as he gets closer to the top.

He’s pretty good at this. The ease of it. Like she’d know. Of course he’s physically capable, she knows this, she’s seen it. He wouldn’t be here otherwise. She’s tapping her foot and her gaze is colder by the time he steps back onto the stone with the book in hand. His breathing is almost imperceptibly heavier. 

Link holds the tome out to her. “This one look right?” 

_ How Not to Kill Your Safflina _ . A pretty little drawing of the plant in question on the front. 

She snatches the book out of his hands and storms off, down the stairs to one of the tables. She tosses the torch so its head rests in one of the firepits and she sits and grimaces at the approaching clanks of sifting metal. The book’s open to a random page and she doesn’t have to skim for too long before she feels the heat of his presence at her back. There’s a throb in her temple and the words are illegible. Her fingers run through her palm over and over again and the muscles tighten on her face. The air leaves his nose in a soft whistle. 

Zelda twists around in her seat. “Back.” 

Link gives her that blank stare again and she could slap him. He takes a single step back and her expression chills further. 

“Go on.” 

Another few steps. 

“More.” 

He’s all the way to the foot of the steps and she can hardly see the sheen of his armor, much less his face. She watches him stand there. 

“...More.” She has to say it a little louder now. 

On and on until he’s at the top, the double-set doors behind him. She stares. 

“More.” 

She motions with her head, go on. He doesn’t move another inch. Silence. Zelda sighs. It was worth a shot. At least he’s over there now. She shifts back to settle into her seat, gaze intent on the tome in front of her. Finally. 

_ How Not to Kill Your Safflina _ . She wilts and it’s like all the frustration’s sucked out of her. It’s late. So late. She blinks sluggishly and her hands move up to rub at her face. Her bed sounds quite good right now. Maybe...maybe she shouldn’t have gone out in the first place. 

But then he’d be right. 

“Link?” 

It comes out as a whisper and of course he can’t hear it. She rolls her eyes. 

“Link.” 

A little louder, and she’s gesturing with her hand. He lumbers his way back down and his expression remains wholly unchanged. 

She eyes him moodily. “I require another book.” 

He nods, pleasant as can be with his hands on his hips. “Which one?” 

“Historia of the Goddesses, 12th Edition,” she says confidently and she makes no attempt to hide the hint of victory in her voice, smirking. 

He blinks. “And where’s that?”

The smirk vanishes and her finger’s up again. One of the shelves on the first floor, a further ways ahead to her left. She gives him no other guidance and he slips out of sight into the rows. 

“It’s up there,” he says after a while, “I see it.” 

“So bring it.” 

“Alright.” 

The word echoes in her head. Alright this, okay that. She hears a foot jam into a bottommost shelf.

“No climbing.” 

The sounds stop. Zelda hears his footsteps after a while and his head’s glancing from around the corner and she can’t tell if it’s the shadows or if there’s really something different in it. The brow furrowed, that incredulous gleam in his eyes even with his jaw tight and his lips thin. 

"No climbing." He says, his tone dull. 

"No." 

"No ladder either." 

"You thought otherwise?" 

It all morphs and coils in the dim light the longer she tries to hold his gaze and maybe she is imagining it so she should swallow that lump in her throat and remind herself to breathe. He’s there a bit longer. 

Then he’s back around the corner. Plodding and stomping his way around the perimeter and Zelda strains her neck to try and get a glimpse. Where is he? Her eyes are everywhere and they catch a glint of silver and he’s there, up the stairs and she follows him as he passes around to the railing. Past the shelves there, the torches illuminating him as he goes by. He stops. He looks down to the row on the first floor. He’s at the railing now. He’s  _ on _ the railing now. He’s-

_ Oh goddess. _

A hunk of metal tipping over and his head of gold flashes for a second and the resounding slam of a knight crashing onto a shelf top cracks through the hall and Zelda stifles the gasp with her hand. Metal on wood, there’s barely any echo. Silence. Zelda strains her ears, any signs of the stunt having been heard, anything. Silence more. Her hand’s slowly pulling away and the movement’s jittery as her mouth opens and closes, more awake than she’s been the entire night. He’s not moving. He’s going to move, right? 

Zelda hesitates. “...L-” 

His hand’s out and curling over the edge and he braces it as he draws himself up, the silhouette gradual, smooth and quiet. Zelda watches as the shadow inches along, his hand drifting across the book spines below out of view. 

He stops. His hand rises and she doesn’t have to see the title to know it’s the right book. 

Spirits, we really ought to reorganize this place. The silhouette’s up and Zelda’s still tight, arms to her chest and eyes wide on him. He stands there. The figure wanes in her vision and she blinks the spots away. Still standing there. 

“What are you-” 

Her voice is too loud and she shuts up. She huffs through her nose and storms over, glaring up at him as the details pop in. 

“What are you doing?” Zelda whispers up at him with indignant arms at her sides. 

Link looms over her. “No climbing.”

“Wha-" she sputters, "Obviously you can climb down!” 

“Didn’t say that.” 

Everything blinks red. Zelda opens her mouth only for the 12th edition to drop right past her face and she jumps as it smacks the stone floor. It’s not enough to mask the embarrassing noise that escapes her throat. She’s still looking at the book and almost marvelling at its existence when the hunk of metal follows suit and she jumps again at the crash of Link’s boots. Zelda breathes hard with her hair across her face and she watches as he grabs the book on his way up to her. His nose glances hers and something tickles as she stares into the piercing, infuriatingly brilliant blue of his eyes. They bore into her and she can’t see anything else and there’s a throbbing in her ears she desperately wishes wasn’t there. A moment passes. 

He steps back and holds the book up to her level. Zelda still sees blue. 

“No, no.” 

He cocks his head at her refusal. She chases the fleeting confusion on his expression before it drowns in the intensity again. She matches the glare with her own, lips half-parted and dry and she darts her tongue over them.

“Down.” Her tone is flat and unwavering. 

He’s still challenging her with that blue. Tit for tat they’re there, and they could be there forever. Then his knee is buckling, slow and purposeful and he’s lower, lower. Zelda follows him down with her gaze until he’s kneeling with his head dipped back and the bangs away from his face, hard and pristine in the dark. He holds the book out and her heart thumps in her head.

“I said  _ down _ .”

Something glints off his eyes and he’s looking at her differently again. The muscles on his face relax but the fire’s still there in that blue. Then his head dips until the blue’s gone and he’s a crop of gold atop a silvery carapace, glinting and melting into the stone floor. His arms go higher and the book is held up to her. She stares, drinking. Her hand goes out to the offering after a while and she hesitates before grasping the book gingerly in her fingertips, running across the leathered spine. They brush his thumb and it’s hard, unyielding. The tome’s tucked beneath her arm and she stares at the man before her. 

“Better.” 

There’s a lilt in her voice she hadn’t intended to be there. It sounds right though. Her hair sways behind her as she glides back to her seat. Something’s tingling on her face. In her hands. Oh, her fingers are trembling. That’s something. The tremor doesn’t reach her legs and the strides are smooth, graceful and she wonders hazily if it’s really her moving them that way.

Zelda sits and clutches her arm, the book plopping onto the table. Her head’s shifting subtly with her eyes dazed and she brushes her hair away from her face, once, twice, again. She rubs her fingers and the blood won’t slow. There’s a coil tightening in her stomach and her chest is fluttering and she thinks for a while. 

She cranes her neck and he’s standing around the corner, almost right where she’d left him. So far back the light only just reaches him and he watches her and her blood just won’t stop pumping. 

“Link.” 

Something in her voice that wasn’t there before. He clanks his way over and some of that fear dredges its way back into her throat. Even so, Zelda sits firm and watches and then he stops a few paces away, his chest rising and falling through his armor and his gaze flitting over her face, neutral but open. 

_ Well. He’s here. Just as you ordered. What...what can you make him do now? _

They’re silent for a while. 

“One leg.” 

His face twists and he’s looking at her funny, his brow cocked. 

“What section’s that?” 

She shakes her head and wills the heat away. “Stand on one leg.” 

He blinks. “As you say.” 

He does it. The magnitude of Zelda’s unoriginality hits her. 

“Stop.” 

He stops. She racks her brain for...something. 

“Flip.” 

Another funny look and she sighs, “Flip, flip,” motioning with her hands and her hair bounces, “do a-” 

His legs brace and an instant later he’s in the air, backwards and over and then he’s back down and Zelda cringes at the noise like cymbals clanging and crashing that takes so damn long to settle. 

“Okay, off. Take that off.” 

That same quirked expression and she makes a note to rid him of it later as he begins. The Sword’s the first to go and he kicks it beneath the table. His movements are stiff as he goes to unbuckle something by his shoulder and even that’s too loud, the clinking and the metal of his glove scraping against the metal of everything else. Zelda can only bear it for another second before she’s on her feet, her fingers dancing across the steel grooves as she pushes him into what she deems a better position, which is one where he’s not directly facing her. 

She bites the inside of her cheek and squints against the faint light flickering around them as she fiddles around. The shoulder shifts off and away and she bends to lower it gently to the floor. These clasps are difficult. He’s doing his part at least, even if she has to shush him a few times when he gets too loud again. Her hand presses here and there on the material beneath to brace herself on, this ink blue fabric that’s padded and full and envelops him from neck to toe. He breathes normal through it all, as normal as can be. One by one the pieces fall away. 

“Cumbersome,” Zelda mutters. She glances his smooth cheek, the sharp jaw and how the light bounces off it all, “So cumbersome.” 

He doesn’t say anything and the frustration’s there again. It’s a bit muddled though. 

“You could say something, you know,” she says with the words slipping past her lips, “I’m not going to have you quartered or anything.” 

The blue flashes over to her and it’s gone again. 

“Not my job.” 

She huffs softly as she works a particularly complicated lock. “I don’t think any of this is your job, to be frank. Fetching books and falling off railings.” It comes out as a grumble, a little lost as she hastens to shrug a leather strap off him. 

Something flickers across his face and her hand nearly slips. She licks her lips, breathing through her nose and she continues to fuss. 

“Why are you wearing all this, anyway? You have a new uniform. One of your numerous prizes.” 

Zelda didn’t mean for the last part to slip out, or for it to sound so bitter. She frowns but the words evade her. Then she sees his face. Chin dipped, the nape of his neck exposed and his expression to the floor, muddled. 

“The weight. Not used to it.” 

The pieces are on the floor and she steps away. Left in just the deep blue of his old armor and she sees how it fits his form, the frame lean and build evident even through the padding with his hands clenched and muscles tense up to the neck so slender where it all coalesces into a face chiseled but soft and angry but serene with the hair speckled and messy. Those harsh lines of golden brown arching over those eyes so light but so bold. They shift up from their gaze over the floor and Zelda flicks her stare away. 

He looks a little too human now, she decides. He sounds a little too human. Zelda’s stomach churns and the knot reveals itself again, tight and hot and mystifying. She can’t very well ask him to put it all back on, that’d be even more noise. He turns to her and stands the way he does, hands on his hips and his little tail’s more pronounced now, peeking behind his head and small and loose. He looks good like this. Lighter, freer. More natural. The fabric’s padded, though. He could stand to lose that too. 

What? 

Link snaps his head towards something and Zelda’s thoughts scatter. Her face scrunches up and she moves to speak but he holds a hand up to her. Zelda listens and her heart stops. That’s not just the throbbing in her ears. Steps, echoing and stomping their way closer, closer-

Link lunges forward just as the double-set doors creak open. Zelda gasps despite herself and it’s muffled by a gloved hand over her mouth and his arm over her waist and he’s stumbling back, pulling her aside into one of the aisles. The world goes dark as they retreat from the flames and they freeze. The air’s loud, so loud through her nose but his is low, steady. She hears the steps thunder louder and her chest’s close to bursting and she thrashes in his grip like a caught bird. 

“Shh.” 

The coaxing sound right behind her and she shivers at the heat washing over her ear as her heart beats and beats and he holds her close and they listen. 

“-Something stupid.” Male voice, gruff. 

“That’s what I said,” Different male voice, lighter, “Then Mollie’s hankering and hollering and next thing I know I-” 

There’s a new torchlight and it ebbs closer and closer with the steps and the voices. Something shifts in Link’s chest behind her and he’s pulling them away from the light, slowly, firmly. She tries to fall her steps in line with his and her slippers slide across the stone. They turn another corner, his back thudding so softly against the wooden shelf and now it truly is dark. 

Zelda blinks, trying to shift through the static and the grain. She squirms a little, her hand tugging at his sleeve and his fingers relax until the air is brisk through them and chilling her damp lips. The voices are louder. 

“Look at that.” 

“Good grief. You think-?” 

“Yeah, definitely Alphonse. That man’s gone through three sets this past month, I think. Someone oughtta pick his shit up if he won't.” 

Groaning. “Do we gotta, though?” 

“Eh. Leave it for the morning patrol, Hylia knows they get about as much excitement as we do.” 

“Maybe we get ‘em to leave it all over the grounds. Breastplate here, shoulder piece there. Really turn that bastard around.”

“Nah. Way too much work over a single uniform. Anyway, like I was…” 

The voices fade and so does the harsh light. They wait for the steps to echo and the doors to shut and for silence to truly swallow them up again. Zelda’s eyes flutter on the high of her blood rushing through her. Link waits a little longer, then he sighs as his hand slides from her lips, clamping relaxed on the skin of her shoulder before dragging lazily down her back. It sends a wave through Zelda and her face shifts strangely. His other arm snakes out from her waist, slow and pulling at her gown as he collapses further against the wall. She breathes shakily. 

Her hand drifts over to his arm and she stills it. He stops melting into the wall. His palm on the flesh below her ribs and her hand firmer on top, pressing down on the glove so her gown twists and she knows he knows now, her keeping him there. His eyes scouring the nape of her neck, she can feel them. Her lips parted, eyes unfocused. Her fingers, gentle and almost timid on his, guiding up and up...She turns just slightly so she holds his gaze out the corner of her eye, breathing, melding to him against the shelf through the cloth of her gown and he’s solid and firm through the padding and her head’s hot as a few golden strands tickle past his nose. 

The adrenaline drains and the knot coils into itself, vanishing into the mist. 

The air’s sharp through her lungs and she practically leaps away, swallowing hard and shifting the stray tresses over her shoulder, hand rubbing at her neck with her gaze rolling across the floor. He’s rooted against the hard surface, jaw slack and eyes wider than she’s ever seen them and his hand’s limp in the air and his knees are bent. Zelda swallows again, her chest pumping and filling and something, something is-

Her jaw collapses on its hinges and she yawns. Long, drawn out, shocking her to her bones and her feet stumble a little. It fades away and her face feels soft as she blinks once, twice. Her hand goes to her face and she sees the flicker on his. Something pulling at the corners of his lips and whatever it is it’s pulling at hers too. She laughs, the noise small and her frame crumbles. 

“I,” she starts weakly, “I believe that’s enough reading for tonight.” 

The smile’s wide on his face, his hand still groping the air. “Alright.”

* * *

He’s side by side with her, clanking through the corridor in his straps and his steel with the torch bright in his hand. Zelda glances over to him sometimes only to stare at the ground and the urge to glance again comes and goes, her hands clasped below her chin. 

“Here,” he says and they’re there. 

Zelda looks at her door. Already. She nods numbly to him before reaching for the handle. 

“Hey.” 

Zelda breathes a moment before turning around. That shimmering blue. She waves the flutter away in her chest and feels miserable. He stares at her long and hard. 

“...You ready for tomorrow?” 

The thoughts are mush and her gaze lowers. He waits. She searches for that beautiful blue she’d tried so hard to turn away earlier. The blue she'll try so hard to turn away come the morning. 

“I have to be,” she says. 

He studies her a little and she wants to curl up into herself. Instead she stands there and tries not to shake as the gaze washes over her. 

“You’re gonna do fine. You’re gonna do great, actually. And...And even if. You got two more springs to go. And...” 

He hesitates and he looks down and the words are fighting to break free. Her hands fall and she stares. He scratches through his hair and he looks away again only for the eyes to return even stronger. 

“I’ll be there. Know you don’t like it much, but I’ll be there at every single one. The books might not be, though.” 

Her watching him, him watching her. He sighs, frustrated at himself and she lets the fascination filter through everything else. So malleable...so malleable, yet so firm. 

“Anyway,” His lips quirk up for a second, “Night.” 

He turns. 

“Link.” 

She catches his eyes and stares a little longer. He waits, expression blank. 

“...Kiss me.” 

A silence passes and her resolve falters and then there’s a glint in his eye. He steps forward and the gasp seals in her throat and his lips are warm. They’re there for a second that hangs forever before he steps away again, flicking the hair away from his face and his hand rests on his belt and he’s shining and resplendent and her eyes are glazed as her breaths drift slow and lazy out of her.

“Night.” He clanks and clatters away, into the dark of the hall and taking some of the light with him. 

She touches her lips, head snapping between him and her door. She clutches at her gown and clears her throat as she grasps the handle. 

Foolish boy. ‘Night.’ Where does he get off, staring at her like that and watching and smiling and waiting? He’s right on one thing, at least. She doesn’t want him there tomorrow. Or the day after, or the day after that. In fact he may as well just return the armor, the Sword, the tunic and then he can go ahead and return himself to whatever institution he came from so she doesn’t have to suffer his absurdity any longer and she can stay a princess and he can stay a boy instead of how it works now where he looks at her and the world’s dizzy and she’s a girl and he’s a knight. Yes, that sounds about right. Very much so. 

_Goddesses, it’s hot in here._


End file.
